


Untitled M*A*S*H 001

by jeweled_weevil



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweled_weevil/pseuds/jeweled_weevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's introspection. Fear reveals secrets. Mild m/m. PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled M*A*S*H 001

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to try my hand at writing fanfic for the first time in over a decade. Came out surprisingly well for being mostly written while drunk, haha.

Major Frank Burns stood in front of The Swamp's mirror, shaving.

  
 _Margaret wasn't speaking to him again. He'd never understood why she was so touchy when he mentioned his wife. Louise was only his wife, that didn't mean much... did it? Apparently Margaret thought so._  
  
He wiped his face with a damp washcloth, hanging it on the line to dry, before sighing dejectedly and slumping onto his cot. Fishing for his boots under the edge of the frame, his fingers brushed against the box containing his wedding movie.

  
 _It'd been an arranged marriage, in a manner of speaking. Their mothers had been friends since childhood, but Louise's mother had married a well to do businessman, and his own mother had married a local surgeon. And so he and Louise had known each other since childhood, and it was only expected that they'd marry each other. Except they hadn't liked each other. But his mother had insisted, saying that it was best, since Louise and her family had money, much more than a local doctor and his practice would bring in. So they'd married, though neither he nor Louise were particularly enthusiastic about the idea. He'd at least tried to pretend he was happy at his wedding, even when he gotten the fly paper stuck to his face, and Louise insisted on driving. He'd started his own practice, and they'd had children, and they tried to act like a proper American family. Except Louise was an ice-queen...cold and distant, yet dutiful, keeping the facade up for public appearances and their families. Louise had insisted he bring the film with him, apparently as a reminder of his family duty._  
  
He found his boots, pulled them on over his socked feet, laced them up, before pulling on his uniform jacket. Grumbling to himself, he left The Swamp and headed towards the building that served the 4077 as a hospital to begin his rounds.  
  
\-------  
  
What had started out as routine rounds had quickly descended into a marathon surgery session as incoming wounded had flooded in. Captains Pierce and McIntyre had started bantering again, eventually descending into arguments between them and Frank, resulting in Colonel Blake ordering all three of them into his office after the session was over.

  
 _Colonel Blake had had started out giving them a dressing down for all their animosity in the OR, saying how it wasn't productive to them or helpful to the patients to always have them bickering. But then that degenerate Pierce had gone off talking about how he was going to kiss him, giving him one of those sidelong winks. He was sure Pierce only did it to annoy him, thinking it would make him angry enough to leave him alone. It did throw him off balance, but not for the reasons he thought it did. Pierce couldn't possibly know about that horrible perverted part of him that he kept buried inside. Only military regulations, his patriotism, and his faith kept it deep inside and hidden, where it belonged. An exasperated Colonel Blake had dismissed them._  
  
Making his hasty escape he headed toward Margaret's tent.

  
 _Margaret had softened towards him during the marathon session, he thought maybe she'd let him into her tent. He needed her, even though he was never really sure if she liked him for him, or because he was the only available person in camp who was of equal or higher rank. She wanted him to leave his wife, but he couldn't, the house and all the stocks were in her name. If he left her, he'd have nothing left except his practice, and maybe his daughters. What he was sure of was that she was everything his wife wasn't, beautiful, passionate, and, he was loathe to admit, rather masculine in her own way._

\-------  
  
What had started out as any other marathon OR session, had quickly descended into chaos once their own shells had started falling on the camp.

  
 _It was bad enough during a normal OR session, what with Pierce and McIntyre and their constant bantering and/or singing. He needed quiet during his operations. His father had shown him how to perform surgery, despite disliking him, he'd though that maybe he'd have a son that could follow in his footsteps. He'd understood the basics, but that didn't mean he was good at it. In fact he was terrible at it, though he'd never admit it publicly. He was much more comfortable at doing routine ailments, which was why he'd opened his own clinic instead of working at the local hospital. Pierce and McIntyre made it bad, but the shelling made it much worse. He was terrified. He might die. For all his bravado, he was terrified of dieing. His hands were shaking, making operating even more difficult than it already was._  
  
He finished his current patient, and abruptly tore off his gloves and fled the room, ignoring the calls from Margaret, Pierce, McIntyre, and Colonel Blake. He sunk onto a bench outside, burying his face in his hands, quivering with fear.

  
 _A few hours later, or was it only minutes? He heard the door open and felt someone sit down on the bench next to him. He peered up, expecting to see Margaret, but was both surprised and annoyed to see Pierce sitting next to him instead. God, he didn't want to die._

  
_"Frank, what're you doing?"_

_He pulled his shaking hands away from his face and looked up at Pierce._

  
_"I don't want to die Pierce..."_

_God, why did he sound so whiny? He didn't want to sound whiny. He was sure he was going to die._

_"No one wants to die Frank, not me, not Trapper, not Henry. Not those kids on the table."_

_Pierce was shaking. He realized that Pierce was just as scared as he was, for all that he didn't show it in the OR. Pierce's startlingly blue eyes bored into his own eyes. He found himself focusing on Pierce's lips as he spoke._

_"Frank, you and I both know you're a barely competent surgeon, but you're all we've got. You've got to pull yourself together and get back in there and help those kids! You're better than nothing at all!"_

_If he was going to die, what did it matter if he did it. Those lips.. God. Even scared half to death Pierce was good looking... If he died, no one would ever know... He met Pierce's eyes again._

_"I don't want to die Pierce, not without... not without..."_

_"Not without what Frank??"_

_He had no words for what he wanted, so he rose from the bench and faced Pierce. The other man made as if to rise as well, so he leaned forward, placing his hands against the wall on either side of him, pinning him in place. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips against Pierce's. He felt the other man tense up underneath him, but didn't push him off. Fear giving him unexpected courage, he opened his lips slightly and leaned into the kiss. He felt Pierce open his own mouth slightly, welcoming the unexpected touch. He felt steadied by this, and pulled away, straightened without a word, and strode back into the OR, leaving a stunned Pierce sitting on the bench._  
  
\-----  
  
Several hours later, after the last patient had been attended to, and the shelling had stopped. It was past dark, but the mess tent was still open.

  
 _He headed towards the mess tent. Maybe food would settle his nerves. He hadn't died. He hadn't died! And now Pierce knew his perverted secret! He'd tell McIntyre, and they'd have a laugh and call him a sissy! When he was growing up, the other local children had called him that, usually accompanied by fists and feet. He'd go home crying to his parents, and his father would only say he deserved it. No comfort. He didn't want that here, he didn't think he could take it, losing the respect of everyone in camp. Maybe Margaret would help him feel better. He couldn’t tell her everything, of course, especially about his perverted mistake._  
  
He hadn't stayed long at Margaret's tent. She was angry at him for walking out of surgery like that. She'd kicked him out. So he headed back to The Swap.

  
 _As he slowly made his way back towards The Swamp, he braced himself for the inevitable fallout once he had to face Pierce and McIntyre. He slowly pushed The Swamp's door open, expecting a torrent of laughter at his expense. Instead, there was silence. Suspiciously he fumbled for the light, switching it on. He glanced over at McIntyre's cot, surprised to find it empty. Looking at Pierce's cot, he was even more surprised to find both men in it, shirtless, arms entangled, their lower halves thankfully covered by blankets. McIntyre stared at him, looking slightly horrified, and made a move to escape the cot. Pierce reached an arm over and kept him from leaving._

  
_"Frank... I won't tell if you won't tell..."._

_He shifted his weight from one foot the other several times, before finally meeting Pierce's eyes, nodding once. He turned off the light and made his escape from the tent. His secret was safe... but why did he feel a tightness in his chest... he couldn't be... jealous? Of those degenerates? Never. His nerves were just a little frayed from the day's events. That's all. He giggled to himself as he went off to find to find some enlisted man to order around on some trivial task, that'd make him feel better._


End file.
